Distorted Fairy Tale - Chapter 5

During the last prenatal check-up, the doctor mentioned that Song Zhen’s psychological state was quite concerning. He was showing signs of depression, which, if left unchecked, would be detrimental to the fetus. It could easily lead to premature birth, and the child might even be born with a predisposition toward autism.

Consequently, Fu Yuting was deeply dissatisfied with Song Zhen’s frequent bouts of weeping.

Song Zhen had a small face so small that Fu Yuting could easily cup it in one hand. Forced into eye contact, Song Zhen looked up at the man.

“How can you act as if nothing ever happened?” Song Zhen asked, his gaze resembling that of a wounded animal. He looked at this Alpha—the man who had once shared the deepest intimacies with him, the man who had clung to him through countless nightsand voiced the question burning in his soul.

A suffocating silence filled the room.

It took a long while before Fu Yuting spoke. His voice was as chilling as ice, delivering words that felt heavy with an unspoken meaning: “Because I am Fu Yuting.”

With that, he released his grip on Song Zhen’s face, picked up his book, and got out of bed.

Song Zhen heard the bedroom door open and then click shut.

Because he was Fu Yuting, everything concerning “Song Heng” was nothing more than a long dream to him. It was as if Song Heng only existed within the confines of Song Zhen’s memory.

Song Zhen leaned against the headboard, staring blankly into the distance. He remembered a night when he had lain in Song Heng’s arms and asked him if he would ever leave if he regained his memories.

“I won’t, Gege.” Back then, Song Heng had held him tightly, kissing his forehead repeatedly. In the most sincere tone, he had said:

“Regardless of whether I have my memories or not, I will always love you, until the very end of my life.”

It was a shamelessly sweet thing to say. At the time, Song Zhen had been so embarrassed that he buried his face in Song Heng’s chest to hide his flushed, burning cheeks. His heart had overflowed with sweetness, and he had murmured a playful rebuke: “You’re so cheesy.”

Thinking back on it now, the world had changed, and the person was gone. In the silence of the vast bedroom, Song Zhen let out a breath that sounded like a sigh, whispering two words laced with an imperceptible trace of grievance:

“Liar.”

After that night, Fu Yuting began to stay away frequently.

Song Zhen felt more alone in the house than ever. He felt like a ghost haunting the mansion—he could see everyone, but it was as if no one could see him.

Inevitably, he overheard the servants gossiping again.

“See? I told you the Young Master was just playing around. He’s only had him here for a month and he’s already bored.”

“That Beta only has a pretty face. Nothing else about his background is a match for our Young Master! He didn’t even graduate from high school!”

“He didn’t finish high school!?”

“Yeah, ridiculous, right? He must have used some scheme to crawl into the Young Master’s bed! Otherwise, how could a Beta like him ever catch the Young Master’s eye?”

“Exactly! Someone like Young Master Zhou is a proper match. Alphas and Omegas are the only ones who truly belong together!”

Song Zhen stopped listening after a while.

To be honest, he had heard such things so often that he didn’t feel much anymore. Besides, some of it wasn’t a lie. He really had stopped going to school after his second year of high school.

Song Zhen had a strange quality—throughout his life, he always seemed to be the one who ended up isolated in group settings.

His brief high school experience had been made “colorful” by this very trait.

His lack of education had always been a point of insecurity. After entering society, he had been too busy and exhausted to dwell on it, but when someone pointed it out specifically, it still had the power to sting.

University had once been his envisioned sanctuary, his promised land.

Some say university isn’t actually that grand and is full of its own unpleasantries. People who are there have the luxury of criticizing it, but for Song Zhen, it had remained a shimmering mirage that vanished before he could reach it.

The countless nights he had spent studying for that goal had turned into a farcical, black-and-white comedy the day he was forced to drop out.

The devastating collapse of his inner world had only begun to regain some semblance of shape through the years of working, hearing customers yell “Waiter!” over and over again.

He couldn’t return to who he was before, so he simply continued to exist as a scarred, fractured version of himself.

Song Zhen pulled out his phone and typed a name into the search engine: Fu Yuting.

Numerous entries appeared, and he clicked on one:

Fu Yuting: Recommended for admission to A-University at 15; graduated a year early at 18; enrolled in a Master’s program the same year; graduated with a Master’s in Finance at 21, becoming the youngest Master’s graduate in the history of A-University…

There were also long lists of prestigious awards. Song Zhen had to scroll for a long time before reaching the end.

“So impressive…” he whispered.

Then he thought of the servant’s comment: “A Beta who didn’t even graduate high school.”

The contrast made him feel painfully uncultured. An unbidden sense of inferiority washed over him.

Remembering how Fu Yuting read every night before bed, Song Zhen decided to follow suit. He ordered a few books online, thinking it would be good for the baby’s prenatal education.

He read a few poems aloud to the baby. He wasn’t sure if the baby liked them, but he ended up reading himself into a drowse and fell asleep right there on the bedroom sofa.

This time, he dreamed of the first day Song Heng arrived at his rented room. Song Zhen had made him sleep on a floor mat. Perhaps fearing that Song Zhen would kick him out, Song Heng had woken up early the next morning to sneakily make breakfast.

When Song Zhen woke up, he smelled something burning. Terrified that the place was on fire, he scrambled out of bed only to find a frantic Song Heng in the kitchen.

Song Heng had been trying to flip a fried egg with a spatula while wincing as hot oil splattered onto him. It was a rather comical sight.

Song Zhen had told him then that he needed to dry the pan and the spatula before frying eggs to stop the oil from splattering.

During meals, Song Heng acted as though he was afraid of being an inconvenience. He would only eat one bowl of rice, even though Song Zhen could hear his stomach growling at night.

“I have enough rice for both of us,” Song Zhen had said helplessly.

He then watched in awe as Song Heng proceeded to eat four bowls.

Since he wasn’t good at cooking, Song Heng tried to prove his worth in other ways—washing dishes, doing laundry, and mopping the floors.

The result? He accidentally broke several bowls, tore one of Song Zhen’s low-quality shirts because he was too strong, and mopped the floor without cleaning his slippers first, leaving a trail of wet footprints across the entire house.

When Fu Yuting returned, he was greeted by the sight of the sleeping Beta wrapped in a thin blanket, one pale ankle peeking out from underneath.

As he moved closer, he noticed the Beta was holding a book.

It was a classic piece of literature.

Fu Yuting stood by the sofa, looking down at the Beta’s tranquil face.

Song Zhen’s skin was incredibly fair, looking like fine mutton-fat jade under the lights—translucent and pure. His face was small, and with his eyes closed, his long, thick lashes were clearly visible. His nose was delicate, and his lips were as vivid as cherries.

With his eyes shut, one might think his features were almost too exquisite. But when he opened his eyes, those clear, bright, deer-like eyes balanced the beauty with a sense of innocence. Combined with his quiet, deep temperament, the overall impression was one of pure, understated elegance.

When Fu Yuting lifted Song Zhen from the sofa, the Beta woke up.

Still groroggy and seeing Fu Yuting’s face, Song Zhen thought he was back in his old room. He nuzzled into Fu Yuting’s chest unconsciously and murmured, “Song Heng, stop doing the laundry… I’m almost out of clothes to wear…” Then, he drifted back to sleep.

Fu Yuting: “…”

Perhaps because he had fallen asleep so early, Song Zhen woke up the next morning just as the sun was beginning to rise. Seeing Fu Yuting lying beside him, he was momentarily stunned.

He hadn’t seen Fu Yuting for at least three days.

Even during that first month, Fu Yuting had been incredibly busy. Usually, the man was gone before Song Zhen woke up and only returned after he was asleep. It was rare for Song Zhen to find him there upon waking.

In the faint morning light, Song Zhen stared at Fu Yuting’s face for a long time. He couldn’t resist reaching out to touch him. His fingers traced the Alpha’s handsome brow, moved down the high bridge of his nose, and finally rested on those thin lips.

His heart stirred. He whispered softly, “Heng-heng?”

The Alpha didn’t react. Summoning a sudden burst of courage, Song Zhen leaned in slowly and pressed his lips against the Alpha’s in a soft kiss.

When Song Zhen opened his eyes again, he was met with a pair of pitch-black orbs.

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